


Finding You

by NessieFromSpace



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Druid Rhys, Elf Prince Timothy, M/M, Rhys is incredibly wounded, Some gory descriptions, Talk about a mass killing, Vague bad guys I didn't care to name, accidentally married-ish, descriptions of violence, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 07:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18463858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NessieFromSpace/pseuds/NessieFromSpace
Summary: Every week a competition is done to see who can win the right to wed Timothy, the elf prince, whether he wants it or not. Thankfully, no one has succeeded to ring the bell that binds their souls together, until today, when a strange druid pops in out of nowhere, wins, and then disappears.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for Adiamondpony! I'm posting it way late, but here it is!

Another day dawned and Timothy wished he wasn’t there. The elf prince sighed as he lay in bed. It was going to be another long and boring day as the kingdom tried to find Tim a suitor. He would be forced to sit and watch as all the kingdom lined up, as they had done for almost a year now, and try to win the contest. It was all incredibly stupid. Win the contest, with the prince. It was barbaric.

There was a knock on his door. “Prince Timothy? Are you up? It is time to get ready-”

“For pain and agony,” he whispered. He sat up and called to the door. “I am up!” His attendants came in and got him prepared for the day. He was dressed in his fine clothes, so he was ready to wed whomever when they won. Breakfast was set out for him on his balcony and he picked at his food as he gazed over the elven land. He’d grown a distaste for it in these months, knowing that every available suitor were fighting for ‘their right at his hand in marriage.’ It never mattered what he wanted, he was unattached for too long and therefore improper.

“It is time, my prince,” one of the attendants said.

“Of course,” he sighed.

He was brought to the arena, where the crowd was loud and excited. At least they never tired of this. He sat in the throne chair, to the side of the king and queen. They did not address him, it was not done. They watched regally as the pre-contest entertainment wound down.

Timothy sighed heavily and prepared himself for a long day of failures. No one as of yet had ever come close to winning the contest. Tim was glad for it, but he was still forced to sit all day, bored.

* * *

Rhys, backpack loaded with all the books from his tribe, hid in a hay cart. His body ached beyond what he’d ever known, but if he sipped what little was left of the tinctures he had, allowing him to handle the pain fairly well.

 _They_ were after him and they wouldn’t stop until he was dead. Images of his burning tribe flashed in the back of his mind. Of his adopted family dying at _her_ hands. Of their druid chief stealing Rhys away and transferring the chieftain role to him and making him leave with all their lore and teachings.

His throat clogged and he swallowed hard. He couldn’t think about it, not when he had to focus on escaping. The druid had been lucky to come across the cart and had been able to hop aboard it. He felt bad for keeping himself hidden from the driver, but hoped that the few extra coins he set in the cart might compensate for that.

When they’d come to a kingdom, Rhys had hopped off, stumbling to the ground as his wounded body could not hold him up. He quickly picked up any books that fell from his pack, securing them safely away. He stared at the kingdom. It was the one governed by the elven king and queen. He hoped he could find his needed provisions and a horse here. He entered and was shocked at how empty the place was. It made him twitch, every sound making him jump. He didn’t like being without a crowd to blend into. They would find him for sure now.

And they did. He was not surprised that they’d beat him to the kingdom, it was the closest place from the druid tribe. They glowered at him, the woman sneering. “Just hand everything over and accept me as chief and I’ll let you live.”

Rhys grunted. “You’re never going to let me live.” He threw a fog spell at them, just barely getting away. One of the men grabbed at him, catching his arm, sharp claws digging into his flesh. He tore away, choking on a scream as those claws tore his arm. He ran and found himself in earshot of a mass of people. He ran for that. They were all in a large arena, that would be a perfect place to hide out.

Rhys made for it, sliding into a side door. He leaned against it, trying to catch his breath. The hall he was in was dimly lit by torches, but it was silent, which let him listen for those who hunted him. He heard them approach, heard them snarl at each other and head into the arena, to join the massive crowds.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

“You,” someone called from the end of the hall. “What are you doing back here? All contestants are supposed to be by the gate!”

Rhys frowned. “What? I’m not-”

The elven woman reached him and took him by the shoulder. “It is too late to back out, once you’re in here, you must follow through.”

“Uh… But my arm. I can’t-” He faltered as he realized he had not idea what happened in the arena. “I can’t go out there with it hurt.”

“We’ll mend it.” She said. She walked him to a room where many, _many_ , elves, humans, orcs, and other beings waited. The elf pulled his pack away.

“Hey!” Rhys went for it.

“It is safe, no one will be able to get it except for you when you are finished.” She handed it to another elf, who stowed it away in a room. He was lead to a side counter where they smoothed a salve over his arm. The elf eyed him. “What did you do to gain such a wound? There’s nothing dangerous here that could do that.”

“Uh… It was… an accident.”

“Uh huh. What is your name?”

“Rhys…”

“And what is your skill?”

“My, my what?”

She eyed him, irritated. “What is it that you do?” she demanded.

They wrapped a bandage around his arm. “I, uh… I’m a druid?”

“Right. No shape shifting.”

“Sure…” He was given his place in line. He waited as others were filed after him. His heart pounded in his chest. He looked at the elf in front of him. “Uh… So what exactly are these… contests?”

They sneered at him. “Are you dumb? Have you never heard of this before?”

“Right, I mean, sure, I have, I just… Never mind.” Rhys flushed.

It was a very long time before he was close enough to watch. Each contestant had to fight several monstrous creatures. Rhys so far had only seen contestants leaving with injuries, some of them needing to be carried out.

“Shit,” Rhys breathed. This was not good. He was already battered enough. But he was to go on soon and the elf was watching him closely, he could not escape without causing too much of a scene.

When it was finally his turn, however, he still did not move. Not only was going out there to fight in his condition suicide, but he had no idea what he was supposed to do. He stared at an enormous line of bushes that told him nothing. And going out there would make him a clear target for those that chased him.

The elf stomped over to him and shoved him out. “RHYS THE DRUID!” She announced. She shoved him into the maze.

Rhys stood there in the entrance way, eyes wide.

“Get going!” She ordered.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Unbelievable! Get through the maze to the center alive and ring the bell.” She shoved him forward once more.

Rhys began to walk, stumbling a little. Okay, he could do this. He could do this. There was that whole ‘alive’ part that he was worried about, but he was sure that if he could just get out of here, he could escape through the crowds.

“Alright.” He said, rolling his shoulders back and wincing. He touched his fingers to the shrubs as he did in new places. He found acquainting himself with the plant life always gave him a jump on what the place was like. “Hello,” he said. He could feel they were dry and parched. “Right, okay, let me find you some water.” They told him which way to turn, leading him to a pool of water with caution. Rhys smiled and began to pull the water from where it sat. “I can’t water all of you, I’m not well enough, but I can do my best.” He wet the soil for them to drink up. He did his best, spreading it as far as he was able to. When he felt the strain, he pulled back, putting the water back in the pool. He felt its gratefulness and promised to lead him to the center. Rhys smiled and left the area. That was the other reason he always dealt with the plants first, they helped however they could.

He was so focused on his triumph, he forgot he’d been cautioned and did not see the the siren sneaking up on him.

“Weary traveler,” she called.

“Hmm?” Rhys turned and screamed, jumping away as she reached out to him. “Oh!” He began to shake his head vigorously, back away quickly. “Oh! No thank you!” He covered his ears, running away and shouting. “NO THANK YOU! NO THANK YOU!” When he glanced back next, he saw she was gone. He sighed, wondering how they had talked a siren into participating for elven entertainment. He once more touched the large bushes and followed their directions through the maze.

As he turned a corner, he felt a sudden jolt from the shrub, warning him. He dodged just in time as massive talons from a griffon swung at him. It shrieked loudly, making him wince, but Rhys knew the sound very well, it was angry and frightened.

Rhys eyed it from his hiding spot. Its back leg was chained to the ground, keeping it there. He hissed. The poor creature. What kind of awful kingdom was this place? Rhys stood and ran at the beast, sliding just narrowly past a swipe of the paw. He skidded to a halt at the restrains, his body screaming at him. Ignoring it, he sent a bust of flame, melting it. The griffon kicked back, hitting Rhys and sending him flying. He landed in the bushes, the wetness of blood beginning to soak his clothes. He gritted his teeth and sent another shot at the restraints, watching them weaken significantly.

“Fly!” he called to it. “You can leave now!”

It roared and attacked him again. He rolled to stand over the chains and sent another burst of fire at it. Showing the creature what he was doing.

“FLY!” he yelled.

The griffon glared, unsure of what to do. Rhys would have to prove to it that it was free. He pulled on the chain, grinning when it bent and began to separate. He called the flames to his hands and heated the metal. The chain fell apart.

“You are free!” Rhys called, smiling wide.

The griffon bellowed at him, but then burst into the air, flying and screeching. Everyone covered their ears, but it was a melody to Rhys. It was happy. It was free. Rhys watched it for a moment, happy that at least one of them was able to have some form of freedom.

His body twinged and Rhys was reminded of where he was. He winced and tried to breath as he limped away. He was about to reach out to the bushes for further directions, when he was grabbed from behind, large talons gripping onto his hurt body tightly. He screamed, his body dragged into the air by the griffon. He dangled uselessly as it flew over the maze and dropped him down in the center.

Rhys fell to the ground, the air knocked out of him, making his head spin. The griffon towered over him. Rhys lay there unable to defend himself if he needed to. But the griffon bowed slowly, touching the top of its head with Rhys’.

“Thank you,” it whispered. Then, it pushed off the ground, finally flying away. Rhys watched it get smaller and smaller, taking the time to rest a moment before he slowly and very painfully sat up. He groaned and hissed, knowing he was now in worse shape than ever before.

“Great,” he sighed heavily. He looked around him and found a small table with a bell sitting there. “Right. Ring the bell. Get out of here.” He crawled on his hands and knees, too tired to stand. The harsh ground cut and bruised him, but he could not imagine standing up at the moment. When he reached the table, he reached up for the bell, miscalculating and hitting it off the table where it rolled to the ground ahead of him. “Dammit,” he groaned, crawling after it. When he got there, he snatched it, rolling onto his back and shaking it vigorously. “There! I did it! I’m done!”

He dropped the bell on his stomach and decided he never wanted to move again.

The elf that had shoved him out here, stood over him, smirking. “Well done. You shall come and get your prize.”

Rhys glared at her. “The only prize I want is to get my pack right away.” And to leave.

“Of course.”

She helped him up, frowning when Rhys stumbled and had to lean on her. “You were not that hurt in the contest.”

“Just… Just allow me this, please?” He mumbled as they walked. His eyes landed on the maze bushes. “You should water it more.”

“It will not matter after today.”

“Well, that’s rude,” Rhys frowned at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: http://nessiefromspace.tumblr.com/  
> My Borderlands/ fanart tumblr: http://nessiefromink.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter 2

Timothy could not believe what he’d just watched. He had left his seat and was leaning over the railing, ignoring the indignant responses from his parents.

“Sit down! You will not show favoritism!”

Timothy glanced at his parents as the man ran away from the siren, screaming politely at it. His parents were perfect and pristine as usual, but Timothy could see the lines in their faces. They were just as unsure as he was. Timothy watched further, eyes growing large as the druid began to free the griffon.

“What the fuck-”

“ _Timothy_!” his father hissed.

He watched the creature lift the druid up and _place him at the finish line_.

“What-”

“Timothy!”

Tim growled. No one had ever made it there before. _No one_. How- “Why is he crawling!?”

“I will not warn you again,” his father snapped. “There is no talking during the contest.”

Now the druid was knocking the bell off the table. What chaos was this? Never in his life had Timothy seen it. The ringing of the bell echoed throughout the arena. Timothy felt it reverberate through his body, ringing into his soul. He could feel the connection instantly. It was faint, but it was there. Time would help it grow stronger and more permanent.

Everyone erupted into cheers as Tim stared dumbfounded. He was owned now by that man, the one who just lay there until forced to get up. He gripped the railing tightly, anger building quickly.

The king and queen stood as the druid was taken away. “The contest has been won!” The king turned to Timothy. “Go get the young man and bring him back to the castle to begin preparations for the wedding.” They turned without another word.

Glaring, Tim stormed out. He could not believe the contest had been won. He could not believe it had been so easy for his parents to give him away like a piece of meat. Anger swelled inside him. He did not want to meet his groom-to-be.

When he reached the designated room, he found it disheveled, torn to pieces as though a large blast had gone off. Elves were scattered around the room, picking themselves up.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Tim helped them up.

An female elf growled. “NO!” she glared in the direction of the door. “HE RAN AWAY! WE TRIED TO STOP HIM, BUT HE ATTACKED US AND LEFT!”

“What?” Tim frowned. “What do you mean he ran away?”

“I mean just what I said! We took him to get his stupid, over-encumbered pack and then he tried to leave! We got him as far as the door and then a blast went off and threw all of us back!” She growled. “I will go find him!”

“No,” Timothy said quietly. “No, stay and help pick up. I will go. Tell the king and queen I have gone to look for him.” Timothy knelt by the blast sight, catching the druid’s footprints. He followed them as they ran into the depths of the arena and out a door. The crowd had not come out yet, which let Timothy see the matching prints of the druid running to the door, and the many footprints that had followed so closely to him.

“You were being chased?” He whispered. “Why?” He followed the tracks of the druid, leading away from the arena and through the streets. At one point he lost them entirely and it had taken a minute or more to find them again. Blood splattered next to each step.

Tim sighed. “You better not be a criminal.” Though, it did give him a smirk at the thought of his parent’s plan backfiring on them. He followed the footprints as far as he could before townsfolk began to go about their every day. He sighed and looked around, if his betrothed was on the run and hurt, they would need to get away fast, but with little effort.

He found the closest stable. “Has anyone bought a horse from you?”

“Aye, they looked in poor condition, but insisted.”

“Which way did they go?” Getting the direction, Timothy bought a horse from them and took off. If the druid had let the griffon go maybe, just maybe, he could get the man to do the same thing with him.

It was nightfall by the time Timothy reached a forest that stretched over the mountains. He hoped he was going in the same direction as the druid, but with no outward evidence, he had to completely trust the pull he felt from the connection that was growing between them. He entered the forest, dropping down off his horse to get a better lay of the land. The man had gotten a head start, but Tim felt that he was close. He felt the pull tug at his left and at once left the path. It was silent and the forest was dark, blocking out any light from the moon.

As he passed a thick tree, he saw movement and automatically ducked, but was not fast enough. A tall, thin shadow leapt out at him, swinging a large stick. It hit Timothy in the side of the head, knocking him backwards.

“Ow!” he gasped. He touched the hurt spot and was thankful there was no bleeding.

The man stumbled, losing his footing and falling to the forest ground. He tried to scramble away, but Timothy chased after him. Through the darkness, he could see this was the druid he’d been searching for. “Woah, hang on,” Tim said, bending to grab him. The man kicked at him, catching a shin and making Tim fall the the floor. “Hey!” he yelled, clamping onto whatever of the man he could grab. The man kicked and squirmed, but Timothy was faster and more agile, he straddled the man, pinning him to the ground. “Hey! Enough!”

“Get off-” the man wheezed and began to cough, a sound that seemed to rake the man’s insides.

“I will, if you do not try to run away.”

“Fine!”

Tim eased off, but the druid began to crawl away, throwing debris at the elf. Timothy leapt forward blindly, clasping the man’s waist and pinning him once more. The druid screamed, curling into himself under Tim as he spasmed with pain. Timothy knelt over him, letting the man have some room.

“ _Enough!_ ” Tim hissed, his voice pleading. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

“Then let me go!” the man pleaded. He hugged himself, eyes squeezed shut.

“I cannot do that.”

The man groaned and tried to slowly scoot away. Timothy could see he was injured badly, for the druid moved like a slug over the forest floor. The elf let the man crawl, giving him the sense of escape. “You’re never going to make me give in! You can tell that crazy bitch that!”

“What? Tell who?” Timothy frowned, standing and walking slowly with the man.

“Yeah, like I’m going to fall for that!”

“I’m here because you won the contest.”

He groaned loudly in annoyance. “UGH! NO! GO AWAY! I don’t want your stupid prize! Jeeze, you people are very clingy! You’re awful people who keep innocent creatures tied up for you stupid games! Just leave me alone.”

“I cannot leave you alone…” He was quiet for a moment, his footsteps muffled by the man’s clumsy crawl. His words were confusing. “Do you not know what your prize is?”

The man wheezed as he crawled over a tree root. “No! Okay? Will you leave me alone now? I was just trying to hide and that… that elf just shoved me in there!”

Tim’s lips curled into an amused smile. “Are you telling me _you didn’t mean to join the contest_?”

“NO! Now go away!”

He smiled fully, something that he hadn’t done for years now. “You do not know how amusing that is.” He sighed. “Alas, I cannot leave you alone. You are severely injured.”

“I… I’m fine.”

The stepped in front of the druid and crouched low. “No you’re not. Where is your camp? I can help heal you.”

“Heal yourself!”

Tim’s eyes narrowed at the man as he began to scoot around Tim. “You are very stubborn,” the elf mused.

“ _You’re_ very stubborn!”

“Very well.” Timothy snaked his arm under the man and hoisted him up and over his shoulder.

“Hey! Stop! Let me go!”

Timothy whistled and his horse trotted over to him from the path. He walked in the direction the man had been crawling. “I would set you down if I thought you would not try to run away.”

The druid was silent as he struggled to get free.

“Exactly.”

He caught sight of the other horse and went to it. The man tried to kick at Timothy, but then hissed in pain.

“You should stop fighting me. I’m not going to hurt you, but you’re going to hurt yourself if you do not stop.”

“Why don’t _you_ stop and go away!?”

Timothy sighed. He set the man down next to the horse. Instantly, the man began to move away. This was not going as planned at all. He really needed the man to quit moving so he could look over the wounds.

“Hey,” the man whined behind him. Tim turned to see him trying to mount his horse, but it kept moving away, making him jump after it, his foot in a stirrup.

“Your horse seems to know I’m only trying to help.”

“Shut up!”

“Do you have any bandages for your wounds?”

The druid did not answer. He tried once more to jump onto his horse, but as the horse moved again, the man accidentally let go of the reigns and fell to the ground. He coughed and wheezed and fell unconscious.

Timothy stared and sighed heavily. _This was supposed to be his betrothed._

The man was on the run, so Tim did not feel it wise to go back to the kingdom. He needed a place for Rhys to rest and he needed to get supplies. Tim looked at the man’s horse.

“I need to you find Nisha, she’ll know exactly what to do.”

The horse bobbed its head and left.

Tim turned to the injured man on the ground, knocked out from his own fear and stubbornness. He hoisted the tall, lanky man onto Tim’s horse. It was not pretty and was not comfortable, but it would do. He almost got onto the horse, before he remembered the man had a pack with him. He searched around for it carefully. It had been hidden by druid craft that had fallen apart now that the druid was unconscious. It was hefty, clumsy and poked into Timothy’s back.

He sighed as he swung his leg over his horse. He led it slowly to an abandoned cabin he’d visited frequently before the contest had begun and he’d been forced to stay in the castle. It was his little secret, his get away from his princely duties.

It was just as he’d left it, with enough food to last both of them, and the stream was still flowing next to it. The bed was a little musty, but it was still good. He lay the man on it carefully. He lit a few candles and brought one over to the bed.

Timothy’s breath caught as he stared at the battered face that had not been the man’s before. So, he’d been wearing a glamour. He eyed it carefully, noting how swollen, bloody, burnt and bruised it was. He set the candle down and carefully eased his shirt up. Through the dim lighting, it was enough for Tim’s elven eyes to see all the damage. It was worse than his face. Deep stabs leaked blood. He could make out very faint markings underneath it all, but the druid was too messy to clearly see it.

“What the hell happened to you?”

And yet, he’d had enough gumption- or stupidity- to try to keep fighting Tim off. Timothy’s lips quirked upwards again. This was his future spouse. Well, he needed to the man cleaned, which meant it was time to take him to the stream. Tim stripped from the bulkiness of his expensive, formal jacket and rolled up his sleeves. As he began to peel away the clothing, Tim eyes surveyed the druid’s body. It was slender, long and not built for heavy lifting or fighting at all. There was nowhere on his body that hadn’t been attacked and therefore nowhere for Tim to hold onto him without causing harm. He was as gentle as he could be, carrying the druid in his arms, naked to the stream. It was waist deep and allowed for the druid to float on the water. With a cloth, Timothy gently removed all the caked blood. The man moaned and whimpered in his sleep, but he did not stir. Tim’s shirt was soaked of the man’s blood and he let the stream wash it all away.

Once clean, he carried the druid back into the house. The wounds still bled, but at least he could see the full damage. He had a little salve tucked away and worked on administering that to the deepest wounds. The man’s horse returned just as Timothy was at the bottom of the jar. It had with it, two large bags of supplies and a note.

Timothy read it aloud to the quiet room. “You’ve got your work cut out for you. Keep the druid chief alive.” Timothy eyed the man, hair wet and in loose curls around his face. “ So, you’re a chief, hmm?” He pulled the bags from the horse and brought it into the cabin. He spread more healing salve over every part of his body from his head to his toes. He could now clearly see light blue markings that wove over his body intricately. It was not a tattoo, the edges were burnt, meaning they were newly transferred. Tim had read enough about druids to recognize these as the symbol of the chief.

With the salve on, Tim did his best to wrap the sleeping body in cloth. It was not his best work, but it would do for the time being. Draping a thick blanket over the man, Timothy busied himself with the cabin, making a fire in the fireplace. As he waited for it to build, he cleaned up all the bloody clothes and opening the cabin to the forest. Open windows let a fresh breeze inside as he swept all the settled dust out. By the time the fire was hot and ready to cook a stew, the cabin looked fresh and new. He began to cut vegetables and the meat Nisha had given him.

Timothy had missed this. His hands were being used again. He was _working_ again. He didn’t have to sit around all day learning about things that didn’t matter, he could get messy without being yelled at. Being away for so long had made him realize he’d do anything for the freedom again. His heart and his soul could never be caged in that castle again. He smiled at his new found dream.

His eyes flicked to the man sleeping in the next room. What was going to happen with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: http://nessiefromspace.tumblr.com/  
> My Borderlands/ fanart tumblr: http://nessiefromink.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

The stew was almost ready when the man finally stirred. Timothy was sitting on the floor, reading by candle light. It had been one he’d stashed here a while ago and had never been able to finish.

He closed the book and knelt by the bed, smiling at the druid. “You’re awake.”

The man, his whole head also wrapped in cloth, groaned and cracked an eye open. “Why?” he whined in agony.

Tim almost smiled, this man had a lot of pluck left for being stripped of all his feathers. “You were bleeding way too much. How did you get through that maze like you were?”

The man hid his face into the pillow.

“Well, I have cleaned and bandaged you up and there’s a stew cooking on the fire. You are safe here.”

The man shook his head. “She’ll track my-” He stopped.

“Your markings? I know you’re a chieftain.”

“Shut up.” The slurred, tired words were muffled against the bed.

“There is some bread if you would like something to eat while you wait?”

“I need to leave.” The druid said, sitting up, the blanket falling from his shoulders. His eyes fluttered in pain, and his arms shook as they tried to hold him up. He wobbled and fell.

Tim caught him and eased him back down. “You are in no condition to leave. Give the medicine a day and you’ll be able to walk at least.”

“A day!? I can’t wait- wait, where’s my bag!?” He was about to try to get up once more, but Timothy stopped him and pointed. The man stared at it, bewildered for a moment before easing back down on the bed. “Oh… Uh… Thank you…” the man looked at Timothy for the first time. A red flush crept over what little skin was exposed. “I… I apologize for my rudeness…”

Tim smiled and nodded. “Would you like some bread?”

“Yes please?” the man said quietly.

Timothy tore him off some. “Here. And my name is Timothy.”

With a mouthful, the man spoke. “Rhys.”

“Nice to officially meet you, Rhys.”

Rhys nodded.

Timothy sat down next to the bed again. “I saw you in the arena. I must say, it was interesting to say the least.”

Rhys grunted.

“You were being chased, correct? By whom?”

The druid was silent for a long while, nibbling on his bread, deciding if Tim was trustworthy or not. “She was supposed to be the next chieftain, but… our chief saw evil brewing inside of her and chose someone else…” He laughed quietly. “It wasn’t even me. I was just the last one alive..””

A heavy weight landed in his chest. “Last one alive?”

A tear fell, soaking into the cloth. “Well, besides her… She and her goons destroyed everyone. Even the children.”

“My heart breaks for you and your tribe.”

Rhys quietly ate his bread, tears soaking into the wrappings. Timothy dished out the soup and they ate together quietly. Rhys only ate half his bowl, setting it down and falling asleep once more. Tim fell asleep next to the bed, wanting to be close in case anything happened.

Which had been wise, since he was woken up by a loud, pained scream. He sat up, just in time to see Rhys flail and roll out of bed. Timothy caught him and held him as Rhys tried to escape.

“Rhys,” Tim called. “Rhys, wake up.”

Slowly, Rhys stopped fighting and his eyes opened. He stared at Tim, eyes feral and terrified. “What… What…” He frowned, looked down where he sat on Tim’s lap. “Why are you holding me!?”

“You were screaming and fell out of bed. Just take it easy for a moment and then you can get back into bed. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” His voice cracked and he winced.

“It is okay, you do not have to tell me,” Timothy soothed, his voice low and as even as he could make it. He did not want to spook the druid.

Rhys grabbed Timothy’s hand, about to push it away, when he hesitated. Tim was still, letting Rhys decide. His fingers gripped the elf’s hand tight and his head fell. He sniffled.

Timothy found himself itching to comfort the man. He swallowed. “Rhys, what can I do to make you feel better?” He felt the ache to soothe in his bones.

Rhys was silent, but squeezed Tim’s hand more.

“Anything, if you could do anything right now without worry, what would you want to do? You may do it.” Timothy wanted so badly to hold him close, but he did not want to overstep or force his wants onto Rhys.

Rhys’ lower lip quivered, his body stiff. He slowly leaned against Timothy, his face ducking into the elf’s chest.

“Would you like me to hold you?”

When Rhys nodded, Timothy wasted no time. He held Rhys tightly to him. He knew it was that stupid connection tying them together that was affecting him so much, but he would let it slide this time. Rhys needed this. He had most likely watched his whole tribe die and he was still being hunted by the woman who had done it.

When Rhys quieted, his sobs were replaced by yawns. Timothy moved him back onto the bed, picking Rhys up with ease and elven grace. He covered Rhys back up, but as he was kneeling on the floor, Rhys caught his hand.

“Can you… Stay… with me tonight?”

It took Tim a moment to realize what Rhys was asking. “You would like me to sleep next to you?” The druid nodded. Timothy smiled. “I can do that.” He slid into the bed, under the covers, guarding Rhys from the room. He wrapped his arms around him as Rhys snuggled close, turning so his face hid against Tim. It was warm and perfect. Timothy sighed silently, resting his head into Rhys’ curls. The connection was working fast, but Tim found himself enjoying the company of Rhys.

* * *

Rhys had not expected to break down on the elf like that. He had not expected to have a nightmare either, but both had happened. And more so, Rhys had asked him to sleep with him. He had no idea why he’d felt so compelled to do that, but he was thankful for it. He did not have anymore nightmares, sleeping soundly tucked against the elf. He felt extremely safe in Timothy’s arms, like the elf would never let anything bad happen to him.

The morning light was warm and welcoming on Rhys’ face. He felt himself almost smile before the pain from his body rippled into his mind. He groaned softly, waking the elf.

“Are you okay?” His eyes opened, a beautiful, crystal green among red hair and freckles. It took Rhys by surprise and he just stared, taking in everything he could about the elf. His skin looked soft and milky beneath the thick spattering of freckles, his jaw soft and strong at the same time.

Timothy smiled knowingly and Rhys felt himself flush. He was now very glad for the cloth around his face.

“Good morning,” Tim said, voice soft and light. “How are you feeling?”

“I…” Rhys winced as he moved and irritated a wound. He huffed.

“We should change your bandages and reapply the salve.” Timothy slipped from the bed, light and limber.

Rhys only sat up, watching the elf move around. He looked down at himself and realized that he was naked. He wore no clothes, which meant that Timothy had stripped him while asleep. Which meant Timothy, had seen everything. All the cuts, all the stabs, all the bruises and fire scorched skin.

Timothy had seen all his ugliness. Had seen his failure to protect his tribe. Rhys’ fists clenched at the sudden feeling of embarrassment and being exposed. Timothy had seen how hideous Rhys was now, how scarred beyond repair he was. His gut twisted sourly. He would always wear these and they would always be reminders of what he’d lost. Of what had been taken from him.

The elf had returned now with bandages and a large jar of salve. He stopped as he looked at Rhys. He knelt by the bed. “Hey, are you okay?”

Rhys did not look at him. He was ashamed. He was worried about his looks when lives had been lost. He was behaving selfishly, when he needed to be thankful to be alive.

“I have already seen you naked, if that’s what you’re worried about?”

Rhys’ eyes snapped to the elf’s, feeling his cheeks turn even more hot.

Timothy nodded, a triumphant smirk on his face. “It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

His gut clenched and his throat clogged. “I’m… I’m…” He sighed, staring at the bed. “I should be. Many people have lost their lives and all I can do is worry about how ugly I-” A tear fell from his eyes.

“You have had a shocking thing happen to you and you are recovering from it. You will have all sorts of new feelings.” The elf let his fingers lightly touch Rhys’ hand. “It is okay, it does not mean you care any less about your tribe.” He smiled softly when Rhys finally looked at him.

He still felt like an asshole, but he nodded and let Timothy help him stand up. They worked together to unravel the bandages and went down to the stream so Rhys could wash away the blood. Timothy held him steady, seemingly aware how weak and unstable the druid felt.

Once back inside the cabin, Timothy let Rhys apply as much salve as he could reach on his own. He stoked the fire and got it going again to warm up the stew. Rhys carefully smoothed a steady layer over his body. It stung a little, humming over every wound in the way mint tingled, only it seemed to reach to Rhys’ soul. Rhys tried his best to get lower than his hips, but bending down for too long hurt and made him dizzy. He huffed, annoyed at how useless he was.

The elf came back and picked up where Rhys left off, crouching to get his thighs and legs covered. Rhys flushed at how close Timothy was to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to stop himself.

“For what?”

Rhys felt his cheeks heat even more.

“Ah,” Timothy smiled, his eyes twinkling. “I _did_ say you had nothing to be ashamed of.”

His heart fluttered, a warmth Rhys hadn’t felt in a long time seeping through him, making his heart ache just a little bit less. He hadn’t expected it from the elf, but was glad for it, even if it was solely to cheer him up. Timothy moved to Rhys’ back and it somehow felt even more intimate and embarrassing. He wanted to apologize again, but Timothy beat him to it.

“ _Nothing_ whatsoever to be ashamed of or sorry for.” His voice was playful as he finished the back of Rhys’ thighs. When he covered all of Rhys’ back, he was even more gentle before. “You took them all on, didn’t you?”

Rhys sighed. “I was teaching the children when they attacked…”

Timothy’s hand froze on Rhys’ back. “You…”

Rhys bit his lip, fresh tears springing from his eyes. “I tried to save them. They were almost out, but the building collapsed…” Timothy continued to administer the salve. “I don’t remember what happened, except what the chief told me. They’d pulled me out and had healed me, mostly. And that now I had the markings and I was to run away with everything… That everyone was lost…”

“My heart breaks even more for you and your tribe. I couldn’t imagine going through that. It’s time for your face now.” Timothy stood in front of Rhys, a soft, sympathetic smile on his face, though his eyes were sad. He touched a knuckle gently to Rhys’ eye, wiping away the wetness.

Rhys did not look at him, his soul tired and broken. Timothy finished his face and wrapped Rhys up in fresh, new cloth. Then, Timothy handed him new clothes, which he helped him put on. It was hard for Rhys, knowing he couldn’t even dress himself and was forced to rely on a stranger.

The stew was perfectly warm when they sat down to eat. Rhys was surprised at how much his appetite had come back. He was into his second bowl when he set his spoon down and looked at Timothy. “Thank you for your kindness. Especially when I wasn’t so kind.”

Timothy reached across the table, taking Rhys’ hand in his. “You deserve even more kindness than I can give. I admit there was motive behind tracking you down, but not with helping you heal.”

Rhys frowned.

“It’s about the prize-”

“Oh, come on,” Rhys whined, trying to pull his hand away. He was tired of hearing about this stupid prize.

But Timothy held firmly onto his hand. “This is serious, Rhys. The contest wasn’t just for entertainment. It was to find a suitor for the prince’s hand in marriage.”

“What!?” Rhys frowned, his mind reeling. A lot of words fought to leave his mouth all at once. “ _They hold a contest to decide who marries the prince!?_ Who came up with that stupid idea!?” Anger flushed his face as his mind went back to the maze and the ill treatment it had had. “They grew those bushes and then starved them, strapped all those creatures there against their will just for the sport of wedding the prince!?”

Timothy hesitated. “Yes… The king and queen thought it necessary. It… Didn’t look good, having an unwed prince.”

Rhys scoffed. “Oh, those poor souls! Heaven forbid if the prince doesn’t-” His eyes flashed with a new thought that angered him even more. “What about what the prince wanted!? So, what? The prince was just another creature in that maze!? And then they paid others to watch!”

It looked like Timothy had been slapped and he withdrew his hand from Rhys’. “I… I never quite made that connection... “ He sighed. “I just knew I hated it and felt trapped, but when you say it like that…”

Rhys’ eyes widened. “Wait… You’re… The prince..? How the hell can you stand going through that!?”

That made the elf smile. “I honestly don’t know… Not anymore…” He trailed off, eyeing Rhys mysteriously.

Slightly put off by such an intense stare, Rhys focused on eating, though his mind still went on about the elf. It was such a cruel thing to do, just to save face. And the torture it must have been to watch being after being compete to _own_ him. Rhys’ eyes widened. But _Rhys_ had won, which meant _Rhys owned Timothy_. He felt sick to his stomach and he stood up quickly, stumbling from his chair and falling to the ground.

“Are you alright?” the elf asked, next to him a moment later.

“No!” Rhys snapped, every inch of him exploding with pain. “They- they, ugh! They made me take part of their stupid…” Rhys could not find the right words. “You- I’m not, they can’t- you are not property! And they made me- UGH! They made me- I can’t even say it! It’s too disgusting! You deserve to find love when you find it and if you ever want to!”

“Oh, I want to,” Timothy said, helping him to his feet. He was smiling at Rhys.

“What?”

“Thank you. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind undoing the connection.”

“What connection?” He was exasperated, of course there was one more thing.

“That bell, it was connected to my soul, as a way to make it permanent-”

“That’s disgusting.”

“- And when you rang it, it connected us.”

“How do we unconnect?”

“There is a small ritual, but both of us need to be in agreement.”

“Absolutely, let’s go now.”

The elf laughed, catching Rhys off guard. He stared at Timothy, unable not to. It was beautiful and soothed his soul. “You are not well, besides, I won’t be able to fight those who are after you in the kingdom, where it won’t be proper.”

Rhys had almost forgotten. He shook his head. “It’s, it’s not your fight, you shouldn’t have to.”

“They did all of that to you and your tribe. How can I not?”

Those word swelled in his aching heart. He smiled warmly. “I am fortunate to have met you.”

“And I, you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: http://nessiefromspace.tumblr.com/  
> My Borderlands/ fanart tumblr: http://nessiefromink.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

It was well into the night, when _they_ arrived. Rhys was tucked in a corner where he could not be seen and Timothy could keep him safe. The elf was crouched just inside the door. They waited, each breath a thousand years as they dismounted from their horses. Rhys could hear them as they approached, their feet crunching hard on the forest floor. The front door creaked open and Timothy took the first two down easily, disappearing into the shadows for the rest to run in. There were seven more along with the woman who had destroyed Rhys’ life.

Timothy took them all, slashing and killing them with his elven blades. And then _she_ walked in. Rhys could see _her_ , arms at her side, hands turning to fire. He remembered those hands touching the side of the classroom and spreading lightning fast to the only other exit, trapping them inside. She was going to do it again.

Rhys lurched forward, transforming mid-step into a cougar and pouncing on her. He hadn’t been prepared last time, but he was now. He struck her even though his ached and stung and didn’t want to work. He bit and clawed at her, growling fury.

Her burning hands pushed against him, but he would not move. He was not going to let her kill another person he cared for. He heard Timothy call to him through battle, knew that his words were panicked over Rhys’ health, but Rhys could not stop. Not until she was dead.

She screamed angrily at him, the fire in her hands growing hotter. He snarled, swiping hard with his paws and hit her face, large gashes tearing at it and down her neck. She screamed, now trying to struggle to get away. A sudden blow came to Rhys’ side, slicing him. He fumbled only for a moment and he knew he was about to miss his chance. Quickly, he lunged forward as the sword came down. He snapped his jaws around her neck, his eyes squeezed closed, knowing for sure that this would be his death. There was a loud clang and ring of metal and Rhys was unharmed.

The body under him was lifeless, her hands limp to the sides. Rhys let go of the neck and looked to his side where Timothy stood, firm in blocking a large, hefty sword from striking Rhys. The two stared at each other for another moment before the large person swung at Timothy. Without hesitation, Timothy swept his weapon, slicing the neck and killing the last goon.

“Rhys?” Timothy called, setting his blades on the table.

Slowly, Rhys transformed back into his human form. “I’m here…”

He knelt down next to Rhys, looking him over, hands gently probing and turning him this way and that. “You’ve been burnt and stabbed again.” His mouth was a thin line as he pulled the shirt up and stared at the slashed bandages soaked with blood. His hands rested on Rhys’, pulsing. “I thought you were going to let me handle it?” His voice was hoarse and strained.

Rhys swallowed. “I’m sorry, I just… She was about to light the place on fire… Like she did last time and I couldn’t let her do that, not again… Not with you.”

“I see.” Timothy looked at Rhys closely before nodding. “Alright, we should get you cleaned up and bandaged again.  Go and wash off in the stream while I... take care of these.”

“I can do that.” Rhys looked at the room and began to concentrate. The ground beneath them shook and opened, breaking floorboards away as bodies tumbled into the earth. The large whole in the ground closed once it had eaten all the bodies, sealing together like nothing had ever happened. The only evidence was the large hole in the cabin floor Timothy would need to mend.

Rhys collapsed into Timothy, out of breath. They did not need to speak about their triumph, and Rhys was much to sleepy, his eyes fluttering closed against Timothy’s chest.

He scooped Rhys into his arms, standing with perfect grace. Rhys wrapped his arms around his neck, letting his face snuggled into his chest. “You’re strong,” he mumbled.

“You think so?” Timothy mused, leading him back to the stream.

“Mhmm, it’s nice.”

The elf laughed softly and it was music to Rhys’ ears.

* * *

It took them another full day to recuperate after the fight. Timothy still wasn’t sure Rhys should be moving around much still, but he was worried about waiting any longer to reverse the connection. Once it grew too strong, the damage of withdrawal would be immense. There might even be a chance that he would refuse to undo it.

He hadn’t voiced his worries and he was debating on telling Rhys or not, when he stretched from his slumber. “Right, now we can break that bond.” His eyes were bright today. Tim could see the deep wells of sadness lingering, but Rhys seemed happier today.

Timothy had been staring out of a window, his resolve almost breaking. He turned to Rhys and nodded, though he could not smile about it. He had began to worry about what would happen afterwards. Would Rhys leave immediately? He knew that was mostly their forced bond talking, but Tim felt that a deeper part of him wanted Rhys to stay.

Rhys was already out of his bed and getting into clothes. He tried to bend, but his breath hitched and he swore under his breath. Timothy went to him and helped him. They finished off the stew and as Timothy cleaned the dishes, Rhys packed up their things.

He had Rhys ride with him so as to better monitor his condition. It was not, he told himself, an excuse to keep him close as long as possible. Rhys did not object, especially when he needed all of Tim’s help to get onto the horse.

“I could have ridden my own horse, you know?” His voice was light and playful.

It made Tim smile. “True, but I doubt you would tell me if a wound had opened up again.” When there was silence, he smirked. “Exactly.”

Rhys sighed and rested into Tim, the elf’s arms on either side of him. “What will you do once the connection has broken?”

Rhys was warm against him and Timothy wanted to hold him tight, but his throat caught with that question. “I am not sure. I don’t think it would be wise to stay in the kingdom.”

“No, they’d just be more strict and cruel… I am going to start over, begin a new tribe of druids and teach them everything about my tribe... If you want, you’re welcome to join me?”

His heart grew light and he leaned over Rhys’ shoulder. “You would let me be with you forever?”

He could see the harsh flush spreading over the druid. “Well, well… I mean…” he coughed. “If… If that’s what you wanted, then sure, but, I don’t want to force you into anything! Being a druid is being free and-”

Timothy laughed, the sound short-circuiting Rhys. “I would love to spend my life with you, if you’ll have me.”

The druid sighed happily, resting more against Timothy. “I would in a heartbeat.”

When they arrived at the castle it took his parents all of five seconds to realize Tim bonding with Rhys was a mistake. Timothy had had to help Rhys down, feeling the druid shake with anger.

He whirled on his parents immediately. “You are the most despicable, disgusting cowards I’ve ever known! You enslave beings for entertainment! I bet you couldn’t shit on your own to save-” At this, Timothy wrapped his hand around Rhys’ mouth, his other hand softly on Rhys’ shoulder. Timothy grinned widely.

His parents looked like they’d been slapped and they were speechless for the first time in his life. “I think we should break the connection, don’t you?”

All they could do was nod, their faces pale and grave.

Behind Timothy’s hand, Rhys continued to talk, calling them enslavers and monsters, heartless, soulless things who were mindless puppets.

Finally, his father turned to glare at them. “I insist you quiet this… mummified peasant before-”

Rhys ripped Tim’s hand away from his mouth and went for the king. “I am _no_ peasant! Be wise and careful with your words or you will regret them! I would like to see _you_ do the amazing and hardworking things your people do! I bet you can’t even lift your own plate! You’re pathetic!”

Timothy had taken his time moving after Rhys. He wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close to once more cover his mouth.

They were finally in the room and Tim instructed Rhys where to sit and what to do. Rhys did so obediently, glaring at his parents if they tried to speak. Rhys and Timothy sat across from each other on the floor, the bell between them. Rhys picked it up like instructed and rang it twice. After a moment, Timothy took it and hesitated, staring at Rhys. Everything in him was jumping to stay with the druid, clawing at Tim to not break it.

Rhys smiled then, nodding at Tim, reminding him that they would be together even after this. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Timothy rang the bell. Instantly, the connection was severed. He gasped, dropping the bell. It was incredibly jarring and empty. He had gotten used to being able to feel Rhys inside his soul, now, it was cold and gaping.

His mother snatched the bell up and placed it back on the table. “We will screen your betrothed next time. We will do better and making sure they are a good fit for you.”

Timothy’s eyes did not leave Rhys’. “I’m not staying here.”

“ _Excuse me_?”

“I’m leaving with Rhys. We’re going to be wed.”

“No you will not!” His mother’s voice rose in a panic. “What will-”

He glared at the queen. “I don’t care about what anyone thinks about it. It is what I am going to do.” He stood and helped Rhys up., pulling him close. “I love Rhys and our souls have been connected too long for it to work with anyone else.”

His father bristled. “You will stop this nonsense at once! No son of mine will run away with a peasant!”

“I’m not a peasant and if you don’t let Timothy leave, you’re going to make a lot of enemies. I am a druid.”

The king and queen recoiled.

Timothy frowned, out of the loop for the first time. Rhys lead Timothy out of the room. “Let’s go pack your things.” They were not followed by his parents.

“What just happened?”

“Druids are tight-knit and don’t easily help outsiders. This kingdom has some very powerful tribes aligned with them, but if they were to hear about maltreatment to one, they would turn enemies faster than a changeling.” He smiled at Timothy. “You are free now.”

Timothy stopped Rhys and pulled him close, kissing him. It was light, Tim not wanting to hurt him. “Thank you. You have saved my life.”

“You have saved mine.” Rhys giggled then, his cheeks heating. “I know we just confessed out love for each other, but what would you say about getting more acquainted in your bedroom? It will be the only chance we’ll have.”

Laughing, Timothy held his bedroom door open. “I would say I’m beginning to think that you’re nothing but trouble.” He locked it behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: http://nessiefromspace.tumblr.com/  
> My Borderlands/ fanart tumblr: http://nessiefromink.tumblr.com/


End file.
